Falling Is Easy
by Batman Lamp-Writer
Summary: ...It's getting back up that becomes the problem.  A collection of one-shots based on Danny's travels prior to Red, White, and Dead.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, I'm finally getting this story up. I'm typing most of these on the fly, since I've got a pretty good idea of where they're going anyway, but I'm going to want to completely finish this before working on the Psych cross-over, so there'll be a bit of a wait between the end of _Cloak and Dagger_ and the first chapter of _Don't Believe the Lie_. There will be eleven chapters of this. Probably.

Anyway, enjoy this little bit of backstory!

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It had only been a few weeks since his parents went missing. Four, to be exact. Three since anyone realized that little fact. Two since the bodies were found and Phantom was blamed. One since everyone found out he _was_ Phantom. Six days since they tried to burn down his house. Five days since he left.

Two days since he realized he had no money left. And yesterday he'd discovered that he was desperate enough to start stealing.

Pickpocketing was simple enough, even more so when he could use his ghost powers. He pulled a simple ruse, used mostly by partners, by making a fuss over losing his wallet. Within moments, he knew where all the money was. Then, he simply ducked away, turned invisible and intangible, and snagged two wallets, emptying them of most of their cash before sliding them back into place. Money now in hand, he changed back in an alley before counting it.

Fifty bucks. Danny knew he should save it, try to make it last, but he hadn't had a decent meal in days, and he could already count his ribs. With a promise to himself that this would only be a one-time thing, he walked in to a small diner and sat in a corner table, his back to the wall. He only had to wait a few minutes before a young woman, not much more than twenty-two, came to take his order. She brushed a few wisps of curly blonde hair from her face, most of it held back in a messy bun. Bright green eyes almost glowed as she glanced over her shoulder to respond to a joke sent her way by a fellow waiter. She pulled out a notepad, plucking a pen from behind her ear as she turned back to Danny. She flashed him a huge grin, asking, "I'm Rosie. What can I getcha, hon?"

Danny had gotten a quick glance at their menu board, but that was all that he'd needed to answer the question. "A number four, please?"

She wrote that down, smiling brightly at him once more. "Sure thing, sweetie. Want anything to drink with that?"

A small grin pulled at Danny's lips. "A vanilla milkshake?"

The young woman laughed at the hopeful look on his face. "Will do." She added that to the pad, then stuck the pen back behind her ear and tore the page from her pad. "I'll put this order in for ya and tell the cook to make it up quick."

"Y—You really don't have to do—"

"Oh, sweetie, it's _fine!_ 'Sides, you look like you could use a good meal. So, I'll get the cook to send it out ASAP." She winked and went into the back.

Danny watched her as she moved to the kitchen. focusing his ghost-enhanced hearing to make out the conversation she had with the chef.

"Hey, Jimmy, can I get a rush on this 4-and-shake? Poor kid that ordered it looks like he hasn't eaten in days."

He couldn't hear the chef's muffled reply, but another waiter had chuckled, saying, "Rosie picked up another stray, has she?"

The blonde laughed, batting a hand at him. "Oh, shush, Bobby! You make it sound like I found a dog on the street or something!"

"Oh, you mean you haven't?" The comment was followed by a teasing wink, then, "You gonna tell him about that soup kitchen you help out with?"

"Rosie caught your eye, huh?"

Danny jumped at the too-close voice, glancing up to see that another waiter stood by him. "W—What?"

"Don't you worry none about it, kiddo, _everyone_ falls for Rosie," the older man, lacking the black apron worn by the other waitstaff, continued. "That's why I keep her on."

Danny blinked, shocked to notice the name tag the man was tapping at that read, "Mark Davis, Manager." He tried to stammer out an apology—_anything,_ really—but the man just laughed.

"We get all kinds here, kiddo. Rosie's just good at pickin' out who's honest and who's scopin' the place out."

"I—I'm n—not sc—coping."

Davis laughed. "'Course you're not, kiddo! Rosie wouldn't be settin' ya up with a good meal if you were." The man patted Danny on the back.

Danny stiffened at the contact. "I—I'm fine, sir, really. Sh—She doesn't need to go to any trouble…."

"Nonsense! This is _Rosie_ we're talkin' about! It ain't any trouble, and she won't take no for an answer!"

"But—!"

"Here ya go!" Rosie said cheerfully as she set a plate and drink down in front of Danny. "One number four and a vanilla shake! Anythin' else ya'd like, hon?"

Danny's mouth was watering as soon as he saw the food, but he shook himself out of it to reply, "N—No, ma'am, this is fine, thank you."

"No problem! Let me know if ya need somethin', though." She winked, then headed back towards the kitchen.

Danny waited until she was out of sight, then wolfed down his meal. The shake lasted only five minutes, the meal itself barely two more. Danny pulled out the money he'd gotten earlier, counting out a few bills to pay for the food and tip. Just as he began to lay the money down on the table, Rosie came back over.

She swatted his hand. "Don't bother with that!" she said. "This one's on the house."

Danny blinked up at her. "W—What? But—!"

Rosie grabbed Danny's arm, pulling him up and out of the booth. "Now, c'mon, I'm off my shift, and I _know_ you're still hungry, kid. My dad makes the _best_ gumbo, and we've got an extra room for ya."

For a long moment, Danny just stared at her while she untied and slung off her apron. Then, he blinked. "I—I can't—I don't wanna be a burden, a—and I've gotta be getting home—"

Rosie turned back to Danny, a sad look on her face. "Sweetie, ya can't pull the wool over _my_ eyes. I know a runaway when I see one." When Danny tried to protest yet again, she cut him off. "When's the last time you had a decent, home-cooked meal?"

Danny refused to meet her eyes. After a couple more prompts, he answered, "About a month ago…."

The waitress nodded. "I thought so." She sighed and sat down so she was at Danny's eye level. "Hon, you _need_ a decent meal. Come with me, we'll get you something to eat, and you'll have a warm bed tonight."

Once again, Danny stared for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. But _just_ for tonight."

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Rosie was practically giddy when they got to her home. She threw open the door, calling out to her father before turning back to Danny. "This is it! I'll show ya 'round once Dad gets down here."

Sure enough, an older man slowly made his way down the stairs, smiling brightly at Rosie. "I see you've brought a friend, Rose." He looked to Danny. "And who might you be?"

"D—Danny, sir."

"Well, welcome to our home, Danny Sir." The man winked. "Obviously you already know Rosie, but I'm her father, Jason Boyd. I'm guessin' you'll be stayin' with us tonight?"

"Um, y—yes, sir."

The man waved a hand at Danny. "Aw, quit that formal nonsense! It's Jason, please."

"R—Right, sorry, si—er, Jason."

Rosie grinned brightly. "I offered him some of your gumbo, Dad," she hinted.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Of course ya did. Well, let's get ya some grub, kiddo."

Within thirty minutes, Danny'd eaten, showered, and dozed off. Rosie and Jason grinned at the boy who'd fallen asleep on their couch, the former grabbing a blanket and tossing it over him and the latter cleaning up the dishes from their dinner. "He seems like a sweet kid," Rosie murmured, turning to look at her dad.

The man shrugged. "You know not everything's what it seems, Rose." Jason glanced back at her. "He'll probably be gone in the morning, Rosie. Most of the kids you bring home are."

She frowned. "I dunno, Dad. I just…. There's somethin' different about this one."

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It took three days. Each morning, Danny woke, packed up, and left. Each afternoon, Rosie would mope, thinking she'd never see the boy again. And each evening, he'd turn back up for dinner and fall asleep on their couch.

For the first two days, Jason had continuously stated that Danny would likely leave and never return, but he dropped it after Danny came back that third day. They soon became used to the scheduling of Danny and Rosie heading out for the day and coming back in time for dinner, and after the first week, Rosie convinced Mark Davis to bring Danny on as a busboy at the diner.

It had been three weeks since Danny first met the Boyds. The two had actually come to feel like _family_ to Danny. He found himself planning his day around their schedules and helping with chores around the house. It was almost like… like being _home_.

So of course it couldn't last. Exactly twenty-three days after he met Rosie, _it_ happened.

Danny was just coming home from work when he smelled the blood. His eyes went wide, and he rushed towards the kitchen, where Jason could often be found. He threw open the door, bursting in to see—

Nothing. No one was there. For a long moment, Danny just stood there in the doorway, trying to understand where Jason could be before he saw a note on the refrigerator. He moved towards it, pulling the sticky note off the door.

_"Rose and Danny,_

_"I'm heading out to the store. We're out of apples, garlic powder, raisins, broccoli, bread, and basil. I'll be home around eight._

_"—Jason"_

Danny sighed in relief, slumping against the wall. "Thank God," he murmured, eyes slipping closed.

That coppery smell was still in the air. Danny's eyes shot back open, and he started to search around the house. No one else was home, as Rosie was asked to work overtime today, and each room Danny passed was empty. He'd just started to think that he'd imagined the smell when he came across the guest bedroom, which the Boyds had offered to him.

One glance in, and he ducked back, slapping a hand over his mouth and struggling not to retch. He huddled beside the door, facing away from the room and gulping to clear the bile from his throat. When he got himself under control, he peeked back into the room, wincing at the sheer _amount_ of blood on the floor before following it back to its source.

Bright hair fanned out around the body, splotches of matted scarlet distorting the original color. A turquoise headband had fallen to the floor off to one side, and Danny slowly reached out towards it. His hand enclosed around the accessory, and immediately he knew whose it was.

"Jazz," he gasped, leaning in closer to the body, trying to blink away tears. He moved closer, reaching out again, this time to turn over the body.

The head flopped to the other side, and now Danny could see wide, blank aquamarine eyes, staring unseeingly up at him. He hissed, jerking his hand away and losing his balance. Danny landed in the blood, gasping at the cool liquid and the fact that it hadn't yet dried. This had _just_ _happened_. She hadn't been dead for more than a few minutes! Which meant….

Danny jumped up, looking around the room hurriedly, worriedly, trying to find any explanation for how she had come to be here. Then, he blinked. "H—How—?" he murmured, staring at the body once more. Jazz was _already dead_. How could she have possibly died again?

But then he noticed the small paper in her hand. Shaking, he leaned over to take it, pulling his arm quickly back in towards his body once it was in his grasp. Two unsteady hands slowly uncrumpled the paper until he could read it. _"That was a good game of hide-and-seek, Daniel, but it seems I found you."_

The note fell from his hands, and he backed away from the body, running into the opposite wall. When he felt something sticky against his back, he looked up, screaming in shock at what he found.

There, written in blood, was a warning, specifically for him. **_"There will be more."_**

Danny fled.

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Rosie arrived at home as her dad was pulling in. "Oh!" she gasped, surprised that he'd gone out. "I thought you'd already be workin' on dinner!"

Jason grinned, hefting the two bags of groceries. "I would've, but we were missing a few essential ingredients." He tugged out his key and unlocked the door, calling out, "Hey, Danny, we're home!"

Both grins faltered slightly when they heard no reply. Jason quickly covered by shrugging and saying, "He probably took a nap. Go check on him, I'll put the groceries away."

"Alright." Rosie headed back to Danny's room, as she'd come to think of it, and peeked in. "Danny, are you—?" She broke off into a shriek when she saw the room, the message, and the body. Rosie ran to the kitchen, where Jason had paused to find out what was wrong, and babbled to her father about what she'd seen.

"Rosie, Rosie, calm down!" he said. "Try that again, but _breathe_ between words this time!"

She panted for breath before trying again. "There's… a girl… in the... room…."

Jason chuckled. "A girl, huh? Didn't know Danny had it in him—"

"N—No, Dad, she… she was _dead!_"

The man's eyes went wide. "She—? What? Rosie, are you sure?"

"_Yes,_ Dad, I know what I saw!"

"And—And where's Danny?"

Rosie pouted, eyes watering. "I—I don't know, Dad. He's not in the room, and—" It was then that she saw the note on the fridge. "What's this?"

Jason didn't look. "Hm? Oh, I left a note about going shopping—"

Rosie shook her head. "Th—This note's too short to be about that." She walked over, plucking it off the fridge and reading it once before turning it over and looking at the back. "It's written on the back of your note."

The man stared at her. "What's it say?"

"…_'I'm sorry'_…."

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A/N: Yeah. That's about the length they'll be, and now you all get where those "sorry" notes mostly came from/began in _Red White and Dead_. Enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Heh, so this fic is also falling under the cross-over arc, but each cross-over in it will only last one chapter. Whether or not these characters show up later has yet to be decided. Let me know what y'all think.

Danny's part in this chapter is based on my grandfather, who did pretty much the same thing when he was about 14. Yes, my grandfather was this crazy.

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You know what the best place is to go when you're on the run? A traveling circus. There's lots of opportunities to get food and people don't notice a kid on his own in the middle of all the fun.

And, if you're strong enough, you can even make some money.

Danny found that out the first day he saw the place. _Take on our strong man! If the challenger wins, he receives $25!_ Easy money, Danny thought, especially with his ghost powers. So he signed up.

The ringleader, an African-American man by the name of Max Malini, had raised an eyebrow at the young, thin, scrawny teen when he asked to challenge the strong man. "You?" he'd gaped. "You think you can beat Rollo?"

Danny merely nodded. "I'm stronger than I look."

Max had to smirk at that, stating, "So is he."

It wasn't until Danny was in the ring, gaping at the small man whom he was supposed to fight, that he realized what Max meant. He stared for a moment, then turned to Malini. "I can't fight a midget!"

"HEY!"

Danny spun back around, eyes going wide as Rollo launched himself at him. They rolled for a moment before Rollo ended up on top, glaring down at Danny and pinning his arms. "This _midget_ is gonna _beat your ass_," Rollo snarled.

The teen blinked, then scowled before squirming enough to slam a knee between Rollo's legs. While Rollo recovered, Danny kipped up and crouched into a fighting stance he knew all too well.

The audience began to murmur, believing the display to be a sign that the fight was about to get good. Rollo stood, settling into his own stance as they circled.

Rollo smirked. "You actually look like ya know what you're doin', kid."

"Maybe I do." Danny dodged to the side as Rollo lunged at him. The strong man scowled.

"Stay still!" He dove at Danny again, but the teen spun away.

"I don't think so!"

They continued in the same manner for a while, attacking, dodging, turning, attacking again. For a while, they kept the audience's attention, but soon the audience started to lose interest.

"Finish this, Rollo!" Malini hissed from the side of the ring.

Rollo nodded, then lunged once more. Danny, also getting bored, simply stepped to the side before bringing his knee up into Rollo's chin. The strong man's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

The crowd went silent.

Danny turned to Malini, his head tilted to one side. "So… do you count him out or does a K-O automatically end the fight?"

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Danny followed the circus to their next three towns, getting in the ring with Rollo at each stop and winning each fight. Finally, Malini took him off to the side one day. "Look, kid," he said, "I can't have you getting in the ring any more. We're losing money 'cause people think our strong man's weak!"

The teen simply raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so?"

Malini rolled his eyes. "I'll pay you thirty bucks to stay _out_ of the ring in each city you follow us to."

Danny thought that through, then, "You'll pay me to follow you guys around?"

"Kid, if you're half as good at another act as you are at fighting, I'll pay you to _join_ the circus."

The teen's head tilted to the opposite side, he blinking several times. After a long pause, he finally said, "Okay. I'm pretty good with acrobatics."

Malini held out a hand. "Welcome to the circus, kiddo. Now, what should we call you?"

"Well, my name's Danny—"

Malini shook his head. "That's _not_ the name of a circus performer."

A blonde came over then, smiling brightly as she adjusted her tiny, highly-sequined outfit. "I'm sure we can come up with something, Maxie. But first, we've gotta get you some circus-approved clothes. C'mon!"

Danny's eyes went wide as she dragged him off. Vaguely, he could hear Malini call out behind him, "Bring him back in one piece, Raia!"

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Raia grinned devilishly as she pulled Malini and Rollo, along with a hypnotist by the name of Ruvi, over towards the room she'd left Danny in. "C'mon, guys! You've _got_ to see this!" Once she had the three men positioned as she liked, she headed over to the door of Danny's room, knocking rapidly. "They're here! Get out here!"

The door slowly was pushed open, the teen peeking out just enough to see Raia nodding enthusiastically for him to come out. He sighed, then shoved the door all the way.

Malini's and Rollo's eyes went wide, jaws dropping. Ruvi stroked his beard, smirking at the scene. "You've done it once again, Raia."

Danny crossed his arms, trying to keep himself from rubbing at the kohl Raia had used to line his eyes, which were the neon green of his ghost form, minus the glowing. He'd explained it to Raia by claiming he was taught some magic and just snuck colored contacts into his eyes when she wasn't looking. She loved the effect it had. His arms were covered in elbow-length, cloth-and-netting fingerless gloves, and his T-shirt had been replaced with a skin-tight, black shirt with three belts going around his biceps as opposed to sleeves. The neckline of the shirt was wide and a bit lower than Danny was used to, showing his collar bone. His jeans were tossed out, Raia instead forcing him into ripped, black skinnies with a multitude of thin silver chains hanging from his belt. Where he used to have red, worn-out converse, he now wore black, steel-toed platform boots. His black hair fell into his face, gelled into spikes and teased into an acceptably punk-ish look. The blonde had even fastened colored extensions into his locks.

Raia stepped forward, waving at Danny like a model on a game show. "I present to you… Raiden the Magnificent!"

All four spun to her now. "Raiden?" they all gaped.

She nodded happily. "Yeah! I mean, why not? We've all got R names but you, Maxie, so I thought Raiden'd be perfect!"

For a moment, they all stared, then Rollo folded his arms and chuckled. Ruvi soon joined in, gasping out, "That _is_ perfect!" Malini just thought it over and nodded.

Danny, or Raiden, rubbed at his arm. "So… can I change now?"

"No!" all four of the performers yelped.

Raia rushed over to him, grabbing an arm and dragging him off to the practice tent. "You needa show us what you can do, Rai!"

Danny rolled his eyes, but went along with it. It's not like he'd be able to get away, anyway.

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They'd moved on to the next town. Danny had joined the circus as Raiden the Magnificent, going back and forth between acrobatics, magic acts, and knife throwing as necessary. Max never tired of coming up with new routines for the teen, who was starting to enjoy learning the various arts of the circus. The knife throwing, in particular, came easily to him, both from his old lessons with his uncle and his practice fighting ghosts. When he first started throwing, the whole tent went silent in surprise at his accuracy. Max even brought over all the weapons they had to see if it was just a fluke.

It was probably around the time he split an arrow, Robin Hood style, in order to get two perfect bulls-eyes that they decided he didn't really need to practice that act.

This continued for a few months. Every time Danny started to get anxious from being in one spot too long, Max moved the circus to the next stop. The first time, Danny just felt relief. The second, he started to get suspicious, and by the third, he realized Max and the Three R's were watching him and moving as needed.

When Danny first realized that, he stopped, right in the middle of the practice tent. He shook himself out of it before anyone could call attention to it and continued with his practice, but that evening, he went to see Max in private.

"...You've been adjusting the schedule, haven't you?" he asked quietly, green eyes staring straight through the man.

"I have." Max knew the teen would know if he lied.

"...Why?"

Max sighed and sat down. "You were following us for a week before I asked you to join, kiddo. We here know the signs of a runaway. But we don't turn anyone away, here. You're part of the family, now, Raiden, and we protect our own. If you _ever_ feel anxious or flighty, tell one of us, and we'll roll out."

For a long moment, Danny just stared at Max, blinking back tears. Then, he closed his eyes, letting two small rivulets drip down from his eyes before opening them again and locking onto Max's face. "Thank you."

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"We should tell him."

Danny rolled his eyes, practicing his knife throwing to one side of the tent while the Three R's and Max debated on the opposite side. They didn't know about his powers, and, as such, had no idea he could actually hear them.

"Raia, we don't bring kids into this."

"Rai's not a kid!"

Max shook his head. "He _is_, Raia, and we're not going to tell him."

"He _does_ deserve to know," Rollo stated, shrugging.

"He _won't_, and that's _final!_"

Danny spun, tossing a knife towards them. They yelped, jumping back from the perfectly thrown dagger that wouldn't have hit any of them, anyway.

"_Raiden!_" Raia shrieked. "What was _that_ for?"

"I know you guys pull your little 'Carnival of Crime' every night."

They all froze, staring at him in shock.

He shrugged. "I don't care, guys. Just don't get caught."

For a long moment, all was quiet. Then, Max chuckled. "We don't intend to, Raiden."

"Good." And he turned back to his target.

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Danny sighed, staring at the clock with his chin resting on his folded arms. The bright, green lights blinked 11:59 at him. He glanced away from it, towards the door to his trailer, listening to the silence of the rest of the circus sleeping. Then he looked back, just as the digits changed to 12:00.

"Happy birthday, Danny," he murmured, reaching over and tugging the plug for the clock from the wall. He rolled over on his cot, relaxing as the darkness wrapped around him.

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"_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RAIDEN!_"

Danny blinked in shock at the massive amount of _people_ that yelled at him. He'd only just come out of his trailer, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he headed towards the practice tent. But the whole of the circus stood in his way. "W—Wuz goin' on?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"It's your _birthday_, silly!" Raia exclaimed. "We've gotta celebrate!"

Danny shook his head, then realized what she'd said. "W—Wait, how'd you—?"

Ruvi winked. "You're not the only one who knows how to sneak around at night, kiddo."

"We heard you wishing yourself a happy birthday," Rollo said. "At midnight, just like that kid in those magic movies."

Danny glanced around at everyone. "I—I—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, I guess…."

"You're welcome," Max replied, grinning. "Now, let's go cut your cake, hm?"

Danny's eyes went wide. "There's cake?"

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It was nearing midnight again when Danny finally made his way back to his trailer, chuckling still at the troupe's antics for the day. He had to admit, this was definitely one of his most memorable birthdays, even if it wasn't with his family and friends.

But it was with his new friends, and that was good enough for him.

Sighing, he pushed open the door to his trailer. Immediately, the copper smell and red of the room overwhelmed him. He staggered back, covering his nose and mouth and forcing himself not to vomit at the smell and sight before him.

This time, it was Tucker. He was torn apart, blood splattered over everything in the room. Danny winced away from the body, then glanced up at the wall directly in front of him.

Staring back at him, lines still dripping, was another message.

_**I SEE YOU. HAPPY 15th DANIEL.**_

Danny couldn't stop the bile this time.

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Rollo strolled over to Danny's door, knocking loudly. "C'mon out, kiddo, it's time to practice!"

There was no response.

Rollo frowned, brow furrowing at the silence. He glanced over at Ruvi and Raia, who were already heading to the practice tent. "Hey, you guys seen Raiden today?"

Raia shook her head, Ruvi calling back, "No, not yet!"

Rollo nodded, turning back to the trailer door and knocking again. "Raiden, c'mon, this isn't funny, kid!"

Still no reply.

The strong man spun around to see Max heading towards the practice tent. "Hey, Max!"

Malini paused, glancing at Rollo. "What?"

Rollo thumbed over his shoulder at the door. "Kid's not answering."

Max frowned now, knowing that Danny woke easily and at the slightest noise. He marched over, pulling out a key and unlocking the door. The first thing he noticed as he pushed the door open was the paper that had been slid into the doorjamb. He picked it up, reading it aloud.

Raia and Ruvi's eyes went wide as they heard and rushed over. Together, all four pushed open the door to see the same sight that terrified Danny last night.

The paper slipped from Max's hand, landing writing-side-up, proclaiming to all the world, "I'm sorry."

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A/N: Okay. That was fun. And to answer any questions that might've come about from my statement earlier about my grandfather, yes, he followed a circus around as a teen, yes, he fought (and beat) their strongman each time they stopped, and yes, they eventually offered to pay him more to stay _out_ of the ring. My dad's side of the family is a little crazy.

Read and review, please!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hey, guys. New chapter for y'all.

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Only Danny could possibly get _this_ sick while there was a drought. The teen sneezed harshly, sniffling and rubbing at his nose afterwards as he searched for a place to spend the night. He was glad now for the steel-toed boots Raia'd given him during his short stint as a circus performer, but if he didn't find shelter for the night, he'd freeze.

For a state that was (so far) mostly desert, Nevada sure got _cold_ at night.

Danny sighed, glancing both ways before quickly walking across the street to duck into an alley. He rubbed his hands together, wishing he had a coat or blanket, before sliding down the alley wall to sit cross-legged on the ground. He shivered lightly, curling in on himself and closing his eyes. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

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A young couple chuckled lightly as they walked, hand in hand, back to their small apartment from their family business. Mai and Noah DelVeccio were newlyweds, still adjusting to married life after nearly a lifetime of being just friends. Mostly, they worked hard to keep their business afloat.

DelVeccio's was a small, family-run casino, had been since it was opened in 1953. Three generations of DelVeccios made sure that the casino ran smoothly, that customers were happy (even when they were losing money), that their guests were entertained. But the fourth generation was finding it harder and harder to keep the business running.

Mai led the waitresses, making sure their clients were happy and well-fed while they gambled their savings away. The redhead was a huge hit with the male clientele, often getting caught up in their conversations and joining in on spirited debates with a fire of her own, reflected in her bright emerald eyes. She was highly opinionated and made sure others knew as well, but still everyone found themselves drawn in by her natural charisma.

Meanwhile, Noah made sure the dealers were being fair and honest, switching out decks between rounds of poker and replacing dice at the craps tables often. While his wife was definitely the face of the business, the brunette was in charge of the books. He spent many hours checking inventory and income and often came home with dark bags under his gray eyes.

But the two were happy, even if they _were_ overworked. It was always a good day for them if they could go home knowing they'd still be in work the next day.

So neither expected their good day to turn so much. Mai was the one who saw the boy first. "Oh!" she gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.

Noah kept going a step or two before being tugged back by Mai's grip on his hand. "W—What is it, Mai?"

She pointed into the alley beside their house. "There's a boy there! He looks _awful_…."

Noah worried his lip. He was always the cautious one, the one who thought too far into things. "Mai, I'm not so sure we should—"

But she had already knelt down beside the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. With a gasp, she pulled away momentarily before laying the back of her hand on his forehead. She spun to face her husband, exclaiming softly, "Noah, he's burning up! We can't leave him out here, the poor thing is sick!"

"But, Mai—"

She had turned back to the boy, eyeing his skinny form thoughtfully. "I'm sure we can carry him in without waking him, he really looks like he could use the sleep, and _food,_ for that matter! When's the last time he's eaten, do you think?" Before Noah could respond, she continued, "It must've been a while ago, I think I can see his ribs through his shirt! C'mon, Noah, help me lift him."

Noah rolled his eyes and gave up, kneeling down beside her and hefting the child onto his back, gripping under his legs to support him. "Let's get him inside…."

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Two hours later, the DelVeccios found themselves sitting by the guest bed, anxiously waiting for the teen lying there to wake up. Or at least stop thrashing.

The boy was whimpering as he fitfully slept, his eyes moving quickly beneath his eyelids, hands and feet twitching. Every so often, they could actually make out what he was murmuring under his breath. It was mostly gasps of, "Come back," or "Please, don't let them," and once or twice a whisper of, "Sam."

Mai glanced over at Noah. "H—He's gonna wake up, right?"

Noah reached an arm around her waist, pulling Mai towards him in a hug. "Of course he will, Mai. Just… it might take a while."

She sighed, then jumped up. "Then I'm gonna go get some stuff set up for when he does!" And she rushed off to the bathroom to grab their first aid kit. For the next few minutes, all that could be heard was her rummaging through the cabinets.

Noah shook his head, chuckling lightly at her enthusiasm. "What even made you decide to take this kid in, anyway?"

The rummaging stopped. Mai peeked her head back into the room. "Remember when we were in high school and I ran away for, like, a week?"

Noah's brow furrowed. "Yeah, why?"

She walked in with a sigh and sat down beside him once more. "Well, while I was gone, I spent most of my time in the park, and one night when I was getting ready to sleep on one of the benches, this little old man came by and started talking to me. The next morning, he came by and dropped off breakfast for me. And he did the same at lunch and dinner that day. And the next day. So I asked him why. Do you know what he said?"

Noah was officially curious. "No, what?"

"He told me that he ran away when he was younger. And not just for a week, but for years. And while he was on his own, traveling around, he met all these wonderful people who helped him, who took him in and let him stay until he was healthy enough and ready to leave. And he said that, if he could show just a _drop_ of the same compassion and caring that they showed to another, and that could in turn be passed on, how amazing would the world become?"

For a long moment, both were silent, thinking over what the man from so long ago said. "Alright," Noah said finally, "so, what should we do while we wait for him to wake up?"

Mai smiled brightly at him. "Well, I was thinking he could use some food…."

"Okay, what?"

"Well, whatever it's time for when he wakes up."

Noah nodded. "Alright, so let's go figure out what to make."

"Well…." Mai drew out the word into three syllables.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "What?"

Mai blushed. "We kinda need to make a grocery run before we can make much of anything…."

Noah sighed, then stood. "Fine, I'll be back in a bit."

"Thanks!"

Noah nodded and left, leaving Mai sitting beside the still-asleep teen. She sighed, reaching over and brushing a lock of the teen's dark hair out of his face. "...Poor thing," she murmured as the boy twitched once more. "What happened to you…?"

She simply sat, a hand remaining at the boy's head, slowly combing through his hair, for several minutes before anything else happened.

And, boy, did it happen.

The teen suddenly shot up in bed, panting harshly, eyes quickly taking in the whole room before landing on Mai. He pushed himself back into the headboard, trying to get as far away as possible.

"Oh, no, no, no," Mai gasped, raising her hands in a surrendering motion, "sweetie, I'm not going to hurt you. You're sick, we found you outside and brought you to our home. Here," she rummaged in the first aid kit beside her before pulling out a thermometer, "let me take your temperature."

As her hand came towards him, he smacked it away, thermometer flying into a wall. Mai pursed her lips, folding her arms over her chest. "Honey, I need to see if you're getting better or worse. Now _let. me. check!_"

The tone was so similar to his mother's that the boy stopped struggling, allowing Mai to rest the back of her hand against his forehead, frowning. "I need to get an exact reading, okay? Will you let me take your temperature now?"

The boy nodded, watching Mai with sharp eyes as she bent to pick up the thermometer. She turned back to him, holding out the device and raising a challenging eyebrow at him. He obediently lifted his tongue, allowing her to slide the thermometer under it before closing his mouth. A moment later, Mai pulled the device back out, reading the numbers to herself and clucking her tongue unhappily. "That _can't_ be right," she murmured. "You feel like you're burning up, but this says you're below normal!"

The boy wouldn't quite meet her eyes.

She frowned at this, placing her hands on her hips. "Alright, kid, what's goin' on, here?"

He shook his head.

"Ya gotta talk sometime."

There was a long pause, then, "...My normal temp's only eighty-eight." His voice was craggy, like he hadn't spoken in a long time.

Mai's eyes went wide as she glanced between him and the thermometer. "But… if that's true…." She gaped at him. "You've got a four-degree fever! Lie back down!" she barked, pushing him back into a lying position before digging through the first aid kit once more, coming up with three bottles and a spoon. She frantically uncapped one bottle, shaking out two pills before pulling off the lid of another and pouring some of the liquid inside into the spoon. She shoved the pills at the boy, snapping, "Take these." Once he had them in his mouth, she also pushed the spoon inside, making sure the liquid went only in his mouth, then pulled it back out, covering his mouth with a hand and ordering, "Swallow."

He did so, making a face at the taste of the medicine he'd been given. "What's the last bottle for?" he murmured, voice still hoarse.

"Hm?" Mai glanced at the bottles she held, then blushed. "Ah, that would be spray-on deodorant." She smiled nervously at him. "Sorry, that was more subconscious. You _really_ smell…."

The boy blushed. "Ah—could I maybe borrow your shower…?"

Mai nodded. "Down the hall, first door on the right."

The teen headed for the door.

"Ah, wait!"

He stopped in the doorway, turning to face Mai.

"My name's Mai, and my husband Noah's out grabbing groceries. What's your name?"

"...Danny."

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By the time Noah got back from getting groceries, Danny had showered, taken more medicine, had his temperature taken again, and fell back asleep. Mai met her husband at the door to help him carry the bags in. "He woke up," she said suddenly.

One of his eyebrows jumped up at that. "Oh?"

"Yep. Apparently his normal temp is really low, so the readings on the thermometer look funny, and he said his name is Danny."

Noah blinked at the information given. "Okay…. So, I guess that means he's staying here?"

Mai shrugged. "At least until he gets better." The two slowly unpacked the groceries, tucking things into drawers and cabinets as needed. The house was calm, quiet.

And then the scream came.

A bag of grapes fell to the floor as both adults rushed towards the sound, flinging open the door to the guest room to see Danny thrashing on the bed once more. Noah ran over, holding down the boy's arms and legs so he didn't hurt himself. Mai sat on the bed, running her hands through the teen's hair and murmuring to him.

"It's okay, sweetie, you're safe here, nothing can hurt you…." The words became a mantra, echoing through the room as she repeated them over and over again. Finally, the struggling slowed and the boy relaxed into sleep once more. The adults sighed in relief, Noah releasing Danny's limbs and sitting back on his heels.

"What was all that about?" he asked, glancing up at Mai, who still stroked the teen's hair.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I just don't know…."

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The next week was spent in much the same way, with the DelVeccios helping Danny recover from his illness while also trying to discover the reason behind the nightmares he seemed to have every time he slept.

Once Danny was well enough to leave the house, they began taking him in to the casino to help out. At the end of the first day, they found him showing the dealers some flashy card tricks, and by the next day, he was dealing at one of the tables himself. Like Mai, he seemed to have a natural charisma and an easygoing smile on his face at all times.

At least, he did at work. Once they'd get back to the apartment, the smile would drop and he'd lock himself up in the guest room for hours. They still heard the screaming every night, but they could never get past the lock. For close to a month, they worried over the boy who had come into their lives, but he never spoke much outside of the casino.

So, that night, when they heard the screams, they believed it was just the normal nightmare, that he'd stop in a few minutes. And he did. It wasn't until morning, when they went to knock on the door to wake him up and it swung open, that they knew anything had changed.

He was gone. In his place was a corpse of an older, large, jump-suited man with blood dripping from his place on the bed. Mai gasped, covering her mouth and tucking her head against Noah's chest. He hugged her tight, before bending down to pick up a piece of paper on the floor. His gray eyes studied the note, then he crumpled it up and pulled Mai out of the room. He dropped the paper into the trash, trying not to think about the writing he'd seen on the wall.

Painted on the wall in what was obviously the man's blood was a simple warning. _**The Phantom **__**must**__** move on.**_

Noah shuddered, hugging tighter to his wife.

She sniffled. "W—Where'd h—he go, Noah? Wh—What happened?"

"I don't know," he murmured back, "but he left us this." He handed over the paper, letting her read the two short words on it, causing her to burst into tears again.

"_I'm sorry."_

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A/N: Gosh, the angst in this one is ruining the happy mood I had this morning…. Oh well. Read and review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I live! Sorry about the delay, all, I've had a crazy semester. Good news, though, I've finally got names for all the OC's in this. But you don't want excuses, so, here's the story!

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The little old lady passed his 'home' of the moment almost every day, each time carrying bags and bags of groceries. He kept worrying over her, knowing the street he lived beside was infamous for the amount of hit-and-runs it saw. But everyday she crossed that street, barely paying any attention to the traffic.

He couldn't stand it.

So one day, as she stepped out into the busy street, he grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her out of the way of an oncoming car.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Dear me, what's going on?" She glanced at him, confused for a moment, then grinned. "Hello, sonny. Could you tell me what's going on?"

Danny just blinked at her. "...What?"

Her grin didn't waver. "I'm afraid I'm a bit off lately. Old age, y'know. Must've been caught up in my thoughts again and missed whatever happened. So, what _did_ happen?"

"Y—You just almost got run over," Danny replied, stumbling over his answer but not yet releasing her arm.

"Oh, dear! And how did I avoid it?" She asked so innocently, Danny knew she must have some form of memory loss, maybe even dementia.

"I—I pulled you back onto the sidewalk," he answered, blushing lightly.

"Well, thank you, sweetie!" She grinned even brighter at him. "D'you think you might be able to help me cross the street?" She looked at him, taking in his rather ratty-looking clothes and overgrown, messy hair, but made no mention of it.

He glanced back at his little home, almost wincing at the ragged look of it before flashing his eyes to the other side of the street. He could help her across and come back over. That wouldn't be a problem. "Um, sure."

She smiled once more at him. "Thank you, dearie." She wrapped an arm around his, he taking some of the bags to help her. Then, he looked both ways, waiting for the cross light to change before stepping into the street.

Within moments, they had made it across, and he was starting to hand the bags back. "Oh, dear, these bags are so _heavy_," the woman stated as she took them. "I must have gotten too much again…." She bit her lip, looking at him once more. "D'you think you might be able to help me carry them to my house? It's just down the block."

He could feel his hero-complex, long since dormant, starting to ache. Helping her cross the street seemed to have awoken it, and now, he couldn't ignore it. "I—If it's just down the block, I guess I could…."

She smiled again. "Thank you, dearie." She passed some of the bags back to him, then led the way down the sidewalk towards a small, two-story house. They stepped up the two stairs to the door, Danny standing to one side as the woman fished out her key and wiggled it into the lock. Finally, she swung the door open, smiling at Danny.

He started to hand the bags back.

"Oh, dear," she said again, and Danny quickly realized he was about to be asked to help some more. Somehow, he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed or angry, and he blamed that on his hero-complex. "I have _such_ a hard time putting these away in _all_ those high cabinets and shelves…." She glanced at Danny. "D'you think you might be able to help me put them away? The kitchen is just inside."

He closed his eyes, already knowing he wouldn't deny her help. "...Alright."

"Thank you, dearie," she said with that huge smile. They walked in, and he quickly got to work putting the items where she told him to. With that done, he turned to say goodbye.

The woman had already started to set up to cook dinner. Danny opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted. "Could you hand me the chicken over on that counter?" She pointed to the thawed chicken that had obviously been set out earlier. He passed it to her. "Thank you, dearie."

"You're welcome. Um, I'm gonna—"

"Could you hand me the salt?"

Danny sighed, but did so, realizing he was now going to help her make dinner. For the next half hour, he moved about the kitchen, passing her ingredients and occasionally measuring them out. Then, she asked him to set the table for two.

He balked. "I—I should really get home—"

She turned to him, one hand on her hip and the other pointing the spoon she held in it at him. "Don't think I haven't paid as much attention to you as you have to me. Every day I see you sitting in that little alley. Not _once_ have I seen you eat, boy, and I plan to change that. Now, set the table." She turned back to the food, and he quickly obeyed.

They sat together when the food was ready. Danny had to force himself to eat at a civilized pace and not just tear into his food. "It's really good," he mumbled as he ate.

"Thank you, dearie," she said yet again, smiling. "Y'know, I have three grandsons. They're right around your age, I'd reckon, but I don't see them too much. Their parents live too far away." She glanced at Danny. "But they call every week. They've tried to get me to set up that whatchacallit on the computer, the thing that lets you talk face to face? But I'm no good with this new-fangled technology."

She was giving him that look again. "...I can help you set it up," he said quietly. "It'd only take a—"

"Thank you, dearie," she interrupted. "You can do that in the morning, it's much too late now. How about you head on upstairs? The guest room's bed just needs a new set of sheets. You can find those in the closet in the hallway."

"I—I couldn't—!"

Her hands were on her hips again. "You can and you will, boy. You need a good night's sleep, and you aren't gettin' it out on the streets."

"I—" He sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Frieda."

He turned, staring at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"My name's Frieda Greyson, sweetie. You can call me Frieda, not ma'am."

"Right. Sorry, ma—um, Frieda." He turned to go back up the stairs, but paused at the bottom, glancing back to say, "My name's Danny."

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The next morning, Danny woke up, had a huge breakfast, and sat down at Frieda's computer to set up Skype. He was done in just a few minutes, and stood to say goodbye. "Alright, you're all set up. I'm gonna—"

"Oh, Danny," she said, bustling over with a piece of paper in her hand. "If you're heading out, d'you think you might be able to run by the grocery store and pick up a few things?" Her big, brown eyes stared up at him, silently begging him to do as asked.

He sighed. Apparently, he was going to be stuck here for good. "Alright, sure." He took the list and turned to the door. "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Okay, sweetie. Be careful!"

He nodded and went out the door. Then, he sighed. If he was going to be staying here, he might as well get used to it.

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The days when he wasn't shopping were spent helping Frieda clean the house. Her back gave her trouble, so Danny ended up doing most of the vacuuming and dusting. Any time he ran out to get groceries, he ended up picking up pain medicine for her, as well.

And after what had happened in Nevada, he snuck over to a psychiatrist to get some sleeping pills prescribed to him so he wouldn't wake Frieda up at night with his screams.

He knew that the nightmares had gotten worse, but he didn't realize he'd started sleep talking—well, sleep _screaming_—until the DelVeccios had brought it up. So, the pills were necessary if he wanted to hide the dreams from Frieda.

He hid the pills in a backpack she'd given him. She said it was for his things, which he'd been carrying around in a makeshift bag he'd created by tying his clothes together. He didn't really have much to actually put in it, but Frieda respected his privacy and didn't look through it or even go through the guest room without permission while he was living there.

He managed to convince himself that things could be different here, that maybe he'd finally gotten away.

He hadn't.

But instead of just finding the dead body one day out of the blue, everything was drawn out this time.

It started with something he overlooked at first. In fact, he didn't even connect it until he was looking back at it later. One day, coming home from grocery shopping, he found a dead bird on the front step. He frowned at it before shrugging it off as a gift left by a local cat. He took the groceries inside.

Two days later, there was another dead bird. This time, he asked Frieda. "Do you know if there are any cats nearby?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. Why d'you ask, sweetie?"

"Nothing, just…. There was a bird on the porch today, a dead bird."

She blinked. "Oh, dear. That must've been unpleasant."

"Yeah…." He shook his head. "But I'm sure it was nothing, right?"

She smiled at him. "Of course."

The next time he came home from shopping, there was a dead dog on the porch. He froze, staring at it, seeing this time the wounds that had killed it. The throat was slashed, as were several other main arteries. Each wound was precise and the cuts were clean. No cat did this.

He ran inside and called the police. They had him come down to the station.

"So, tell us again what happened," one of the two, a young man who seemed to be in charge, stated.

"I came back from grocery shopping and found a dead dog on the porch," Danny said, still reeling over what he'd seen.

"Uh huh. Where was this again?"

"Um, Frieda Greyson's house."

The man raised an eyebrow at that. "You don't look like one of the Greyson kids. What were you doing there?"

"M—Mrs. Greyson took me in after I helped her carry her groceries home one day. I helped her cross the street and she just wouldn't let me go back."

The other officer chuckled. "Yeah, sounds like Frieda, alright."

The first frowned. "And what is your name?"

Danny barely managed to hide the fact that his eyes went wide. He hadn't been expecting this. "Um, D—Danny."

Now both officers were frowning. "You got a last name, kid?"

"No," Danny lied immediately. "I grew up in an orphanage. Don't know my last name."

"Yeah? Which orphanage?"

Danny gave the name of one he'd passed in Nevada.

The officer's eyebrows arched up. "Long way from home, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

The officer frowned, realizing he wouldn't get any more out of Danny. Then, he sighed. "Alright, kid, we'll check this out. You can leave now."

Danny was gone in a moment.

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The next day, a note was left on the front step. Danny frowned, picking it up and flicking it open. It was from the officer he'd spoken to.

_Very funny, kid. We've closed your case. Don't bother us with another prank like this again._

Danny's brow furrowed. What could have caused this to happen? He headed inside, tossing the note into the trash and promptly pushing it to the back of his mind.

Until the news came on that night. It was a habit of Frieda's to have the news on during dinner, even though they mostly tuned out. But one story caught Danny's attention that night. The TV showed a small home across town, with a sobbing woman clutching the officer Danny had spoken to.

"—_reported that a dead dog was found on his porch this morning,"_ the anchorwoman was saying. _"Officer Klinchley believes this was just a prank and is sure that the culprit will not strike again."_

Danny's eyes went wide. Well, that explained the letter. No wonder the guy thought it was a prank, he got hit, too! Danny shook slightly, finally getting worried about what all this could mean.

"Danny, dear, could you help me wash the dishes?"

And just like that, he was pulled from his thoughts back into the menial work Frieda assigned him.

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It got worse from there. Just two days after the story on the news, he found Frieda shaking and sobbing in the hallway when he came home. He rushed to her immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously, checking her for any wounds. "What happened?"

"O—On m—my bed," the woman muttered, stumbling over the words in a way he'd never heard from her before. "S—Someone broke th—the window and l—left a d—dead bird on my p—pillow." She glanced up at Danny. "Wh—Who would d—do something like th—this?"

He bit his lip, not wanting to lie to her but also not wanting to scare her even more with the truth. "I—I don't know," he said finally. "I just don't know…."

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He didn't take his sleeping meds that night. He didn't want to leave the house unguarded. He stayed up, switching between pacing the room and sitting, arms wrapped around his legs, on the bed. He never took his eyes off the door, ears perked to listen for any strange noises. He barely even blinked.

It was silent. That is, it _was_, until just before dawn.

There was a soft sound of the door opening. He hadn't heard a key insert or the locks turn and knew it had to have been a ghost forcing the door open. He stood, ready to change into his ghost form and fight the ghost away from the house—

But then his ghost sense went off.

He'd been expecting it, but it still put him off guard for a moment as he gasped and glanced down at it. In that moment, something had grabbed his arms.

He felt the warmth he was used to in human form seep out of him and into the thing latched to his arm. He growled, turning to face the ghost who had caught him.

"Spectra," he snarled.

The redhead chuckled. "Danny, Danny, Danny," she practically purred, leeching more of his happiness away, "shouldn't you know by now to never drop your guard?"

He scowled at her, trying to pull his arm free.

"Ah, ah, ah! It looks like I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about listening to your _betters_, boy." She released his arm, instead grabbing his chin in her hands as she switched to her shadow form. Her tail wrapped around his arms and waist, leaving him unable to move. "See, you have _no chance_ of beating Vladdie if you can't even beat _me!_" She was suddenly right in his face, and he tried but failed to pull away from her. "Poor little Phantom, got his wings cut off, left to fall to the earth and watch his friends and family fly away without him." She giggled. "Poor little bird, doomed to watch them die!"

"Shut up!" he yelled, squirming in her grasp.

She slammed him into the wall using her tail, then came in close again while he was still stunned from his head hitting the wall. "See, that's the problem with you, Danny," she hissed into his ear, "you keep thinking you can plug your ears and cover your eyes. You can't escape time, though, Danny. It delivers us all to the same end." She smirked at him, slicing a claw through his arm, making him shriek in pain. "_And your end will come!_"

He vaguely heard someone yelling in the background, but before he could figure out who it was, he had blacked out.

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When he awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of sirens. Someone was shaking him awake, and he glanced up into Frieda Greyson's worried face. "What…?" he asked, still groggy.

"You have to leave here, Danny," she told him hurriedly. "Those… _things_ that broke in last night left us another _present_." She glanced back at the stairs with a scowl. Then, she looked back at him. "You knew something was wrong all this time, didn't you? You knew you'd have to move on."

Danny bit his lip, nodding.

Frieda sighed and hugged him before handing him his backpack. "You take care of yourself out there, Danny. I'll stall the police as long as I can, but they're set on pegging you as the culprit. Stay safe."

Danny nodded, heading for the back window after following Frieda downstairs. He had one foot out the window when he glanced back at her. "Frieda?" he called.

She paused on her way to the front door, turning back to him. "Yes, Danny?"

"I'm sorry."

And he was gone.

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A/N: Um, yeah. That totally went a different direction than I'd been planning. ...Oh, well. Hope you guys enjoyed, read and review please!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Writing frenzy now that the semester's over. Expect this to get finished over summer break. I hope to have _Don't Believe the Lie_ out in September at the latest. Also, I currently have a poll up on my profile, so vote for which Psych characters you'd like to see in _DBtL_.

Bonus points: Several characters have last names from a certain group. Whoever can guess which group correctly first will get a cameo in _DBtL_.

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Paige and Diana Shelley were about as different as possible. So, in all honesty, it was highly cliché that they were twins. Diana, the elder, had long, razor-straight black hair and hazel, almost yellow, eyes that often glinted coldly when she crossed people she deemed annoying or under her. Paige, on the other hand, had a short, curly red mop of hair that barely reached her chin and bright green, kind eyes.

The Shelleys were in their third year of college at Adams State, Diana majoring in pre-law and Paige in art, specifically photography and metals and jewelry. They hung out with different crowds and often only saw each other at night when they headed back to their small, three room loft for bed. Neither tended to invite friends over often.

As such, it was highly surprising when they found a young teen sleeping on their porch, looking as though he'd just wandered through a briar patch and collapsed on the first steps he'd seen.

Diana's lips pursed as she glared down at the boy, nudging him with a foot. "Oy. Get up."

The boy's nose wrinkled, but he didn't move.

Diana was developing a rather interesting twitch in her eye. "You, boy, get _up!_"

The boy groaned, then blinked his eyes up at the twins. "C'n I h'lp'oo?" he mumbled, obviously still drowsy.

Diana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you can—!"

Paige smiled down at him. "You seem to have fallen asleep on our porch."

"Oh." The boy blinked a few more times. "Sorry."

Paige's grin widened. "It's no problem. C'mon, you can finish your nap on our couch. You look like you could use some food in you, anyway." As the boy stood, obviously trying to turn down the offer, Paige wrapped an arm around his and unlocked the door, happily heading in while Diana huffed at her younger twin.

"Here's our kitchen, our dining table, and over here, the most comfortable couch ever known! You can take your shoes off and sleep there while we get dinner set."

Again, the boy attempted to protest.

Paige simply sat him down on the couch. "There ya go! Don't worry, I'll wake you for dinner. Lord knows Diana won't. Oh, my name's Paige, by the way, Paige Shelley, and the pouting brunette over there is my sister Diana." She grinned down at him again. "What's your name?"

"Um, D—Danny," the boy said sheepishly.

"Well, D—Danny, you just settle in there until dinner." She winked and went towards the kitchen, snagging Diana by the arm along the way.

Once they'd gone into the kitchen and out of ear shot, Diana turned on Paige. "What the hell are you thinking?" she hissed. "Bringing this kid into our house? This has _got_ to be your _stupidest_ idea _ever!_"

Paige rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, Di. He seems like a good kid."

"He seems like a _street kid!_ He's probably in there, robbing us blind!" Diana was waving her arms around, barely keeping her voice down.

Paige's hands went to her hips. "Di, quit it. I don't care what you think, but this kid obviously needs some help. I'm not gonna kick him to the curb just 'cause he looks different."

Diana crossed her arms, huffing again. "Fine. But I'm keeping my eyes on him, Paige, and if he so much as _blinks_ wrong, he. Is. _Gone_."

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The pills were too weak. Danny had found within the past month of using them that they gradually started having less and less of an effect on him.

So he upped his dosage. Sure, everything he's ever heard about medication in his life said that was a bad idea, but no doctor knew about how quickly ghosts became drug resistant, so obviously he'd need a stronger dose in order for it to work as it should. Any ghost doctor would tell him that, right?

He was up to four pills at a time, now. Double the dose he was prescribed. He went through bottles twice as fast, but there was always a free, no-questions-asked clinic wherever he stopped, so he never was completely out.

But the drowsiness stuck around.

That's the real reason he'd been on the porch that afternoon. He'd been constantly on the move, only resting every other day for a few hours, forcing himself to wake up before the recommended eight hours. As such, the drowsiness had piled up until he simply collapsed, managing to get himself under the small awning of the Shelleys' house before passing out.

When Diana had woken him, he still hadn't caught up on his sleep, so the moment he was put on that couch, he was out again.

It felt like no time at all had passed before he was being shaken awake by Paige. He blinked up at her, blearily taking in the girl as she smiled at him. "Hey, sleepy head, time for dinner! We made shrimp stir fry, hope you like shellfish!"

She practically flounced away, bubbling with energy. Danny shoved himself up into a sitting position and spent a long moment just trying to get his vision to stop spinning and blurring away. When he could finally look around without getting a head rush, he stood and made his way into the kitchen.

Their kitchen was small, barely fitting a tiny, four-seater table and chairs. The counter space was covered in appliances and dirty dishes from cooking. The table was already set, Diana sitting at one end, glaring at him and daring him to sit next to her. Paige bounced over to one of the seats beside her sister and sat, grinning at Danny. Danny sat on her other side.

Dinner passed without injury through Paige's will alone. If the redhead hadn't been around, Diana and Danny probably would've torn each other apart. As it was, they sat, glaring at each other for the whole meal. Paige kept up a fairly one-sided conversation for the entirety of dinner.

Afterwards, Danny attempted to bow his way out of the house without insulting Diana _or_ Paige, but the latter wouldn't let him.

She latched onto his arm again, leading him towards the three bedrooms. "Look, you were _really_ tired, and I doubt you got enough sleep just napping on our couch, so why not stay the night?" He tried to protest, but she just continued, "We've got a guest room that isn't used, and I know neither of us would want you roaming around when you're so tired."

"Speak for yourself," Diana grumbled.

"So, you just make yourself at home! We have a cooking rotation for dinner, and breakfast and lunch are on your own, so would you mind doing dinner tomorrow?"

"Um, no?"

Paige smiled brightly. "Great! You saw where everything was in the kitchen, so just make whatever you want! Neither of us have allergies, and we aren't picky, so anything'll be fine! Night!" Paige spun on her heel and left, leaving Danny standing in shock in the doorway of the guest room.

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"You know you're _insane_, right?" Diana complained to her sister the next day on their way home.

Paige rolled her eyes. "Diana, I know you're in pre-law, but seriously, do you _have_ to be suspicious of _everyone?_"

"When they just _show up_ on our _doorstep?_ Hell, yes!"

They'd arrived at their door, Diana huffing and crossing her arms as Paige unlocked the door. Immediately upon entering, they were assaulted by an amazing smell. They both peeked into the kitchen to see Danny, mid stir, at the stovetop over a huge pot of _something_.

"What _is_ that?" Diana demanded. Both girls were gaping.

"Um, recipe I found on line a while back. It's called chicken _pilé_." At the twins' blank looks, he added, "Chicken in peanut sauce."

Diana's nose wrinkled. "Yeah? What kind of food is _that?_"

Danny blinked at her. "Um, a friend of mine has an in-law that's from Togo in Africa, and she got the recipe from her."

"Oooh!" Paige squealed. "That sounds _awesome!_ Let's try it!"

And so they all sat down to eat. The chicken was tender and moist, and the sauce itself a blend of peanuts and spicy peppers. Danny served it with something similar to mashed potatoes but thicker and stickier. He poured the chicken and sauce straight onto the potatoes—which he called fufu—and looked like he was about to start just eating with his hands before Paige coughed and held up some silverware.

Danny blushed. "Right, sorry, guess I'm too used to having this at my friend's house…."

Diana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, _here_ we use silverware like _civilized_ people."

Paige and Danny both glared at her. "Diana!" Paige hissed. "Maybe you should just leave the table if you can't keep a civil _tongue_."

Diana huffed, but picked up her fork to stab at the chicken. As soon as the twins bit into their meal, their eyes went wide.

Paige swallowed, barely managing to wait until her mouth was empty before gushing at Danny. "Ohmigosh, this is _amazing!_ You said a friend taught you this recipe?"

Danny had leaned away from the excitable girl, but said, "Um, yeah?"

"Screw the rotation, can you cook _all_ the time?"

Danny and Diana blinked at the redhead. "What?" both gaped. They shot a glare at each other, then turned back to Paige.

"Well, just, if your food's _always_ this good, and you aren't out during the day like we are, couldn't you cook dinner all the time? I mean, we'll do any shopping and pay for the supplies and such, but, seriously, would you cook for us?" She nudged her sister. "C'mon, I know you like it, too, tell him!"

Diana rolled her eyes, but at another elbow from her twin, she finally grumbled, "I… think it's good, too…."

Danny smiled faintly. "Thanks."

Diana glared at him. "I still don't like you."

"I know."

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And so they settled into a pattern. Diana and Paige would be gone each day before Danny even woke up, and he'd have lunch on his own and spend the day watching TV and planning the evening meal, then he'd cook and have dinner on the table when the twins got home. As the days went on, his food got better and better, and they had yet to have the same meal twice as he kept finding new recipes to try.

For two months, this was their routine. Paige would gush over each meal, and Diana would mumble something nice before stating that she still didn't like Danny. Still, the three got by, and Danny got to sleep for more than three hours every other night.

So of course it couldn't last.

Diana was the first to notice that something was wrong. Like she'd told her twin that first day, she kept an eye on the boy the entire time he'd been with them. As such, she was the first to notice that the teen got twitchier and twitchier as the days went on.

She spent a full week, just watching him as he got more and more nervous, before deciding that she needed to bring this to her sister's attention. So, she pulled her sister aside as they were walking home one day. Needless to say, Paige was _not_ happy about the delay.

"Di, what the heck? We're gonna be late for dinner, y'know." The redhead was frowning, hands on hips and foot tapping.

"Dinner can wait," Diana said simply. "Look, Pae, something's up with Danny."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Oh, not _this_ again!" She threw her arms up, turning to walk away.

"No, _seriously_, Paige, he's been acting anxious this whole week!"

Paige stopped, looking back at her twin. "...You saw it, too?"

Diana nodded. "Something's bothering him, Pae, and I don't think it's something good."

The younger bit her lip, glancing away for a moment in thought. "Okay…. Okay, maybe you're right. But what should we do?"

"We should—"

A scream cut through the air. Both girls spun, realizing that the shriek came from the same direction as their home. They looked back at each other, eyes wide, before they figured it out.

"Danny."

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The two rushed over to their apartment, seeing the ambulance and police when they were still two blocks away. Yellow police tape was stretched across the front door and the porch, and emergency service people were coming and going from their home.

Diana ran straight up to the man who seemed the most in charge, demanding, "What's going on here?"

"Ma'am," the policeman said, trying to wave her back, "I'm sorry, but you have to stay—"

"That's _my home!_"

By this point, Paige was standing beside her twin, looking worried as she grabbed the elder's hand. The policeman looked over the two, asking, "You live here?"

"_Yes_," the exasperated girls stated.

The policeman nodded. "Come with me." He led them off to one side, away from the gawkers, and checked around to make sure no one else was listening. "Alright, apparently, your door was left open, and a neighbor went in to see if everything was alright. She found a, uh, a body inside. It appears to be the body of a teenage boy."

Paige gasped, tears prickling at her eyes. "Oh, God, Danny!"

The officer's eyes went wide. He rummaged in his pockets, pulling out a photo. "Y—You know this boy?"

Diana took the picture from him, looking down at a dark-skinned teen with glasses. "No," she breathed. She glanced back up at the officer. "No, we _don't_ know him." She turned to her sister, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Paige, Paige, it wasn't Danny."

The redhead sniffled, rubbing at an eye as she stared at her twin. "W—What?"

Diana smiled faintly. "It—It wasn't Danny, Paige. Danny's okay."

A shaky sigh of relief left the younger girl. "Oh, thank God." She looked back at the officer. "Wh—Where is our friend Danny, then? H—He was staying in our home."

"Ma'am, no one else was found in the home."

Both girls stared at him. "What?"

"No one else was in the apartment."

"How—? But he—? What?" Paige couldn't even complete a sentence.

"W—Was there _anything_ else that even _hinted_ at someone else being there?" Diana asked, anxious for any information on the boy she tolerated.

"There was a message. Well, two, technically," the officer corrected.

"What were they?"

"The first was from the killer. It was, um, written on the wall in… in blood. It said 'You _can't_ save them.'"

Paige's eyes were watery again. "And the other message?"

"It was written on a piece of paper. It said 'I'm sorry.'"

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A/N: Okay, sorry if that seemed rushed or forced, I haven't exactly been feeling well lately. Why can't I get sick in the time off _before_ finals instead of right _after?_

Anyway, read and review please! And please vote in that poll, it'll really help me figure out where to go with the next story.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: More FIE so I can get to really focusing on _Don't Believe the Lie_. There'll be about five more chapters of this, so we're halfway through! Don't forget the contest to guess where some of the last names came from. So far, the names from the group are: Shelley, Leighton. Anyways, enjoy! And please vote on the poll in my profile.

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Danny had been following Route 70 for a few days now. He'd passed the "Welcome to Kansas" sign a day ago, and the next exit was for a town called Russell. With the thought that he wanted to avoid any large towns or cities, he turned away from the highway and flew, invisible, into an area of farms and empty fields.

He'd been flying for three days straight. His eyes kept blurring, eyelids feeling like fifty pound weights were atop them. His altitude faltered, his invisibility flickering in and out, and he knew he had to find shelter to sleep in before he could go any further. Luckily, he saw a rundown, weather-beaten barn a few miles off that looked abandoned. He altered his flight path, aiming for the small, wooden building.

If only he'd seen the smaller house hidden behind the barn.

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The Leighton family had lived just south of Russell, Kansas for nearly eighty years. It had been handed down from father to son for five generations, and now belonged to the youngest Leighton, Wyatt, and his wife Carolyn. Of course, they'd gotten late in life and had no children (besides their two dogs), so the barn, once well-run and full of cattle and horses, had fallen into disrepair as the couple just couldn't keep up with the problems they faced. From near a hundred cows and a dozen horses, they were down to a handful of cattle and a single mare. They'd had to hire a ranch hand to take care of the animals, but a recent marriage and newborn took him from them, as well. Wyatt and Carolyn had nearly given up on their farm ever getting back off the ground.

But then came the day that the dogs found something in their barn.

The two excited, barking dogs came running back to the house, jumping and yelping at their owners. Wyatt chuckled at the display, rubbing the head of the male, an Australian Blue Heeler. "What is it, boy?" he asked rhetorically. "Didja find somethin' outside?"

The other dog, a tricolor merle Border Collie, spun a circle and barked once.

Carolyn laughed now, too. "Well, seems they did, Wyatt. You'd best go see what it is." She shooed the three out the door with a large wooden spoon.

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but left, following the dogs as they bounded towards the barn. "Hold on, now! Whatever it is, it ain't gonna get up and run away!"

The three made their way across the fields of dead grass and corn, closing in on the old, rundown barn that mostly held any hay that hadn't yet been given to the animals. Wyatt was quick to push open the swinging door, left unlocked specifically so the dogs could come and go freely. Once inside, he glanced around. "Hullo?" he called into the large room. "Someone there?"

The Heeler barked up at the loft.

Wyatt rubbed at the dog's head again. "What's up there, Nightwing? Eh?" He moved over to the rickety old ladder, shaking it first to check that it was still sturdy enough to use, then began the climb up into the loft. As he climbed, the two dogs used the stacks of hay bales to make their own way up to the loft. The scritch of their claws on wood let Wyatt know that they'd made it up before him.

The yelping continued, but nothing responded to it.

Finally, Wyatt pulled himself up over the lip of the loft, stepping carefully off the ladder. He glanced around once more, seeing the two dogs barking at empty space. He frowned. "Oracle, Nightwing, what's got you two so riled? There's nothin' here."

But the dogs wouldn't stop their yapping.

With a sigh, Wyatt walked over to the dogs, studying the wall before them. Sure enough, there was nothing there, though he _did_ shiver a bit from a sudden chill. Rubbing at his arms, he stood again, moving away from the cold and back toward the ladder. "C'mon, you two. Whatever was here has left. We're likely never seein' it again, so let's just get back inside, where it's warm."

The barking finally stopped, the two dogs staring a moment longer at the spot before turning and jumping back down the hay bales to the ground as Wyatt took the more conventional route. Once on firm ground again, Wyatt sighed. "Guess there wasn't anythin' to begin with." He looked down at the two dogs, patting the Collie, Oracle, on the back. "Let's head back in. Got a lotta work to do in the mornin'."

The three slowly exited, never noticing the boy who rematerialized up in the loft, sad eyes following them back to the small house.

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Danny couldn't sleep that night. He'd spent most of the day passed out, due to actual exhaustion rather than his pills, and now he was wide awake. As such, he'd been able to turn invisible when the old man and his dogs came to see what had intruded on their (rather sad) farm.

But now he had nothing to keep him occupied. He knew he wasn't yet strong enough to continue his journey, but he couldn't just sit there and do _nothing._

So he checked out the farm he'd inadvertently invaded. The animals were all elderly, the mare obviously beyond the age where she could foal and the cows weak and barely capable of producing much milk. Danny frowned at this, knowing how Sam would have wanted to help these poor animals, and deciding that, whether they knew it or not, the Leighton family would receive the help they needed.

Overnight, he hefted several hay bales over to the cows, placing each well within their reach so they could munch on as much as they desired. He dug some oats out of a barrel to scoop into the mare's feeder, and refilled all their water troughs. That done and still nowhere near morning, he grabbed some brushes and began washing each of the animals, taking care to muck out their hooves and brush their coats once they were dry.

He finally began to feel tired as the sun came up, so he floated absentmindedly up to the loft, curling up in the corner he'd been in earlier and falling asleep.

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Carolyn was shocked, to say the least, when she went out that morning to wake the animals and start milking. "Wyatt," she called shakily, "you'd best come out here!"

Only two minutes later, her husband wobbled over to her, not quite awake yet. "Wuzzamatter?" he mumbled, blinking at the barn and rubbing at his eyes.

"The cattle have been fed."

He nodded. "Ahead 'a the game today, ain'tcha?"

"I didn't feed them."

There was a long, silent moment as Wyatt continued to nod before slowing to a stop, eyes wide. "Y—Ya didn't what?"

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I didn't feed the animals, Wyatt. When I came out here, they'd all been given hay. The mare's even munchin' at some oats!"

Wyatt was full-out gaping now. "_What?_"

"That's not all, either," Carolyn continued. "Their water troughs are full, and they've all been washed." She ran her hands across the sides of a cow and the mare. "They've even been _brushed!_"

"B—But," Wyatt stuttered, "if _you_ didn't do that, and _I_ didn't do that… who did?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I dunno, Wy. But if this keeps up, we just might be able to keep the farm, after all."

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Danny continued to spend his nights working on the farm and his days sleeping. With the animals slowly starting to build up a bit more weight and produce more product, he turned to working the fields.

The first night, well, the seventh night, but the first night working in the fields, he got rid of all the dead plants, either freezing them with his cryokinesis or burning them with his ectoblasts. The next night, he did the same to all the weeds. Then, he spent a night tilling the dirt so it was ready for new plants. Halfway through his second week on the farm, he planted the fields with corn, tomatoes, peppers, and herbs, making sure to leave the empty seed packets on posts at the beginning of each row. He used his powers to create several long blocks of ice, leaving them to melt and water a row each.

Within another week, the farm was in full bloom, the animals were healthier than they'd been in a year, and the Leightons had enough extra money to run an ad for a new ranch hand in the local newspaper. They hired two teen boys to work their farm after school.

Danny smiled down at the work he'd done, proud to know that he hadn't screwed things up this time. In fact, he'd helped these people get their lives back on track without them even knowing who was behind it. He decided to stick around for a few more days, just to make sure that they could manage without him.

With that thought in mind, Danny fell into a peaceful rest for the first time in nearly a year, complete with a grin on his face.

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Carolyn turned to her husband, squinting in the dark at him as they readied for bed. "Wyatt," she said, "I can't believe all that's happened."

Wyatt grinned back at her. "I know, hun. It's been a miracle."

She frowned, biting her lip. "But should we really have let that poor boy stay out in the barn? It's been freezin' these past few nights…."

Though Danny believed he'd gone completely unnoticed, the truth is, Wyatt had caught him early on while he was asleep. After waking up to fed, watered, and groomed animals, Carolyn and Wyatt had decided to investigate. With Nightwing and Oracle's help, it hadn't taken more than a few minutes to locate the boy, fast asleep in a corner of their loft.

Wyatt had wanted to wake him and ask him why he'd done all he did and where he came from, but Carolyn recognized the dirt-covered face and tattered clothes of a runaway when she saw them. They ended up leaving him alone, though if lunches were often overpacked, food seemed to get left in the barn quite often. The boy obviously chalked it up to their age, and not once did any of the food go wasted. They were just happy to aid their helper in any way they could.

Wyatt reached over and wrapped his wife in a hug. "Hun, he'll be fine. The loft's the warmest part of the barn, and I made sure there were still some old blankets up there this afternoon. If he's cold, I'm sure he'll be able to find those."

Carolyn sighed, wrapping her own arms around herself and laying her hands on Wyatt's embrace. "I know. I'm just…. I worry. He seems like such a good kid, he shouldn't be here when he's likely got family out there somewhere."

Wyatt gave her a quick kiss on top of her head. "It'll be fine. Everythin'll work out in the end, hun, for us _and_ him."

Carolyn's eyes slid closed as she smiled. "Thank you, Wyatt. You always know what to say to cheer me up."

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It started with the dogs barking.

Now, living in a multi-animal home, the Leightons were used to noises at night, especially from their over-enthusiastic dogs.

But then the cows started mooing, and the horse was whinnying.

Then they smelled the smoke.

That got them to jump out of bed and rush to the windows.

The fire wasn't coming from their home. The smoke wasn't coming from their home.

It was all coming from the barn.

"Oh, _no_," Carolyn gasped, a hand to her mouth as tears began to streak down her face.

Wyatt managed to move before she could, rushing out into the night and towards the barn. He swung open the doors, immediately moving out of the way so the animals could run out. He did a quick headcount once the animals were out in the fields, making sure each one was accounted for.

Then, he remembered their secret ranch hand.

Wyatt grabbed a bucket, filling it with water before rushing into the barn. The boy was coughing by the ladder, using one hand to hold himself steady and covering his mouth as best he could with the other as he slowly made his way down from the loft. Once he was on the ground, Wyatt grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out.

It wasn't until they were back out in the fresh air that the Leightons noticed what the boy was covered in. Blood clung to his shirt, smeared across his hands, and stained one of his cheeks.

Carolyn gasped and covered her mouth again when she saw this. "What happened to you?"

The boy shivered, rubbing at his arms for warmth even though the fire still blazed behind him. "Th—There w—was a d—dead bod—dy, in the l—loft," he stammered. "I—I tr—tried to re—resuscit—tate him, b—but he w—was already g—gone."

Wyatt and Carolyn nodded, more concerned about the boy and deciding to deal with what he'd found after the police and fire trucks arrived.

But then the boy burst into tears. "I—I ruined e—everyth—thing!" he sobbed. "I'm s—sorry! I'm s—sorr—ry, I sh—shouldn't—t've come!"

Carolyn was quick to wrap her arms around the boy. "Oh, sweetie, you can't possibly try to blame yourself for this! This—This was all an accident!"

"W—Wouldn't've h—happened," he murmured, "i—if I w—weren't here."

"How do you know that for sure?" Wyatt asked, starting to worry about what the boy had gotten into that caused him to run away.

But the boy just shook his head, pulling free from Carolyn's embrace. "J—Just d—do." After all, he could still see the message emblazoned on the burning wall. _Give up and __**maybe**__ I'll let them live._ He couldn't endanger these two more than he already had. So, he glanced at them once more and whispered one last, "I'm sorry," before simply vanishing from sight.

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A/N: Yeah, that's right, _two_ updates within four hours. Say _what?_

...And I've officially been watching too much _Psych_ if I just _thought_ that line in Shawn's voice. Off I go to scribble down some notes for DBtL before I lose the Psych mojo. Night all! Please read and review and vote and guess and all that fun stuff!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Really should be taking my time with these since DBtL seems to hate me right now. I've got tons of ideas, they just aren't falling into place correctly.

Anyways, off we go to Missouri and possibly my favorite group of OC's! ...And the group that's making me think about going back and editing RWaD some….

Also, remember the contest I've got running. Whoever can tell me where this collection of last names are from first gets a cameo in DBtL! Last names so far: Shelley, Leighton, Giroux, Briere, and Hartnell.

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He really should've realized a mall this big would have its own police force. So, really, it was his own damn fault he got into this mess in the first place.

Good thing he knew how to break out of handcuffs _without_ resorting to using his ghost powers.

"—Now, we're going to have to take you down to the station with us," the blond man who had cuffed him was saying, his fellow officers nodding behind him. "You'll have to spend the night in lock-up, but once we reach your parents, they can take you home."

Danny huffed at that, turning his head away from the cops in a classic display of teen rebellion that perfectly hid the fact that he was jimmying the lock on the handcuffs behind his back.

"C'mon, Zach, just read off the kid's rights so we can get outta here," the redhead with the shifty blue eyes whined. He was getting fidgety the longer they took.

The other four rolled their eyes. "Hartnell, _shut it_," the leader, a black-haired, gray-eyed, well-over-six-foot man with muscles to match, barked, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced over at the blond. "Larusso, finish up and haul ass out. We've gotta get the kid booked tonight, or he's headin' home with one of us."

And the incredibly tall man turned and left. The redhead was quick to follow him, complaining about full moons and dark, empty buildings.

They seriously gave that guy a badge?

The blond sighed, grabbing Danny by the shoulder. "C'mon, kid, you heard the boss." He turned towards the two that were left, saying, "Let's head ou—"

Danny ducked away, pulling his un-cuffed hands forward and pulling the man over his shoulder in a throw his mom had taught him during karate lessons. With one man out of the way, he spun on his heel and kicked out in a roundhouse at the other two with just enough force to push them back a foot or two. With the extra space, he bolted towards one of the exits opposite the direction the leader and the redhead took.

"_Hey!_" the tall brunette yelled after him.

Danny didn't bother glancing back, knowing the officers were chasing him. Instead, he ducked into a side hallway, using his head start to turn intangible and dive through a wall into one of the many locked-down stores. Once inside, he ducked under the register and went invisible.

He could hear the officers searching just outside. "He's gone!" one of them called. Danny matched the voice to the blond, Larusso, the leader had labeled him.

All three congregated at the entrance to the store. "How could he just _disappear?_" the third, a muscular African American man, demanded. "Everything's shut down for the night!"

"Alright, hold on a minute, Josh," the brunette replied. There was a shuffling sound, and Danny realized the man was pulling out his cell phone. "I'll call up Briere. Lance'll know what to do."

A short conversation followed, the brunette's side devolving into "uh huh"s and "okay"s after stating the situation. The phone snapped closed, and the man told the rest, "They're heading back."

There was a sigh from Larusso. "Wonderful. What _should've_ been a simple night has turned into a manhunt. For a _kid_."

"Chill, Zach, it's only gonna be a few more minutes." There was a definite chuckle in the brunette's voice. "So it's taking a bit longer than expected, who cares? This means extra donuts on the way home!"

The other two groaned. "Giroux, you're gonna eat your poor wife outta house and home if you keep this up!" Josh shot back.

"Better that than a snarky jerk!" the brunette, Giroux, teased.

"_Both_ of you better have something _productive_ to say or _don't_ say anything at all," the leader barked as he and the redhead approached.

"Sorry, Lance," the two perpetrators replied, sounding more like kids caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar than officers of the law.

"Now, where'd the kid disappear?"

Danny stiffened, holding his breath as if that would make it less likely he'd get caught, as the group of five moved towards the store.

"He vanished around here," Larusso stated. "I thought he'd gone around the corner, but he couldn't have, since he's just _gone_."

There was a pause, which Danny assumed was due to the leader, Lance, nodding. "Okay, Hartnell, grab the keys from the office."

Footsteps rushed away.

"Now, Delaney, check if there's anyway the kid could've snuck in."

"On it, boss," Josh stated. Danny peeked around the corner, still invisible, to see the muscular man running his hands along the bars that separated the officers from the half-ghost. After a moment of searching the whole entrance, he turned back to Lance. "I've got nothin' here, boss. If the kid got in, I got no clue how he did it."

Another sigh reached Danny's ears, this time from Lance. "Great."

But then running footsteps made their way back to the group. "Here's the keys," Hartnell panted. A clinking sound announced the handoff of said keys.

Then the gate was rattling before flying back up into the ceiling. Danny winced, being shocked back into the visible spectrum. He ducked back behind the register, but moved too fast and hit his head. His yelp was stifled behind a hand, but when everything went silent around him, he knew he'd been caught. Sure enough, a moment later a hand reached out and snagged him by the arm.

He was pulled, struggling, out into the middle of the store by the giant leader. "Looks like we found our loiterer," Lance stated.

Danny glared at the gray-eyed man. "Leggo," he growled with a glare.

Five pairs of eyes narrowed at the teen. "No," the officers snarled in unison. Then, Delaney tossed a pair of cuffs at Lance, who quickly snapped them onto the boy's wrists.

"You're _staying_ in those, this time," Lance ordered, turning towards the exit. "Let's get him down to the station for the night. You can call your parents to pick you up in the morning."

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Lance Briere dragged a hand over his face. His team's "easy" night turned into his newest migraine. What should've just been a normal, after-closing perimeter check had turned up a (rather emaciated) teen catching a few z's in a nook that, until then, not even the officers knew about.

The kid should've been easy to bring in. They just had to cart him down to the station so he could give a statement of _why_ he was even there before calling his parents to pick him up. Instead, the kid breaks out of his cuffs, knocks around three _trained_ police officers, and manages to break into one of the locked-down stores. There's no _way_ even _half_ the stuff this kid did was possible.

Yet there he was, sitting in lock-up.

"Boss?" Perry Hartnell was staring at him, eyebrows drawn together in concern. "You okay?"

"Fine," he grumbled back. "Just… this kid…."

Perry glanced away, biting his lip. "About that…. I called some friends of mine, 'cause, frankly, this kid's just _impossible_, and they might swing by…."

Gray eyes locked onto blue, then narrowed. "The same friends of yours that claimed to be hunting a demon dog?"

"Yes?"

"Hartnell, you _know_ how I feel about these guys—"

"Lance, I know, but you've gotta admit, there's something _off_ about this kid!"

There was a long pause as they stared each other down. "...Fine. But you better keep them from turning up around here. If someone sees 'em, they're gonna have to arrest them."

Perry nodded, bright red, messy hair flopping around some. "I know, boss. They'll stay outta sight."

"Good. You follow that, I'll be watching Giroux and Larusso interrogate this kid." He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like you said, something about this kid is off."

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They made an odd pair, as usual, when they went in to interrogate the teen. Paul Giroux was almost Briere's height at six-foot-five and toned enough that it was obvious he worked out yet not to the point of being overly buff. Meanwhile, Zach Larusso barely made it over five feet and looked like he'd never stepped foot inside a gym let alone work out. And now that they weren't out in the field, he'd swapped out his contacts for round, wire framed glasses that made him look like a blond Harry Potter (complete with green eyes, even).

So of course the two were always paired up for interrogations. The differences between the two often tripped up suspects enough to get confessions more often than not. It was a good tactic.

Most of the time.

The teen wasn't even _blinking_ as the two started in on him. Within twenty minutes, Giroux and Larusso had _given up_. Two of their best interrogators, beaten by a _kid_.

Giroux glanced over at Larusso as he cleaned his glasses. "Tough kid."

Zach's head bobbed in a nod but he didn't look up. "We were tough on him. The fact that he didn't react suggests his home life isn't exactly peaches and cream."

Paul frowned, attention now fully on the team's resident brainiac. "You think he's been abused?"

Larusso shrugged. "It's possible, if not probable. Though if that _is_ the case, we probably won't hear it from him. Abused teens more often than not will resort to denial rather than admitting to the mistreatment."

The brunette leaned against the wall, chewing on his lip and deep in thought. For a long moment, the two didn't speak, both lost in their own musings. Then, "...You think he ran away?"

Lips twitched to the side as Zach brought a finger to his chin. "It's highly likely that's the case. He's emaciated enough to suggest, at the very least, that he hasn't had a decent meal in nearly a month. His clothes didn't exactly hide the fact that his ribs are almost poking out through his skin."

"Yeah…." They settled into silence again, once again broken by Giroux. "Is there some way we can help him?"

Zach finally met Paul's blue eyes. "I don't know. But that doesn't mean you can't try."

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Of all the officers on Briere's team, Joshua Delaney was the only one with children at home. Specifically, a five-year-old boy, one that often got into trouble but could always get out of it with a pout and those big, sad eyes he'd perfected.

He was nothing like the boy in the jail cell before him.

And yet, Josh couldn't help but draw parallels between the two. His son was a troublemaker, sure, but what five-year-old wasn't? And the teen, well, he'd obviously been on his own for a while. More like than not, he'd merely been bedding down for the night in the mall. Frankly, it was probably going to be the first good, _warm_ night's sleep he would've gotten in a long time, but they'd found him.

Josh sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped, black hair. "Alright, kid," he said, looking in at the teen, who leveled blank blue eyes at him, "how's about we talk?"

Slight suspicion bled into those eyes now. "About what?" It was only the second time he'd spoken, but Delaney could hear the gruffness in his voice. The teen hadn't bothered with talking much recently. Either that, or he'd lost his voice in the past few weeks.

"First off, what's your name, kid?"

The boy gave him another suspicious glance, searching him as though he could see through him. "...Danny."

Delaney allowed himself a slight grin. "Alright, Danny. I'm Josh Delaney." He extended a hand into the cell. "Pleased to meet you."

Once again, that suspicious glare swept over the officer before a thin, pale hand reached out and shook. "You, too." He dropped the hand immediately after, as if he'd been burnt. "What do you want?"

"What were you doing in the mall tonight?"

The teen glanced away.

"Danny? What were doing there?"

"...Sleeping."

Josh could sense that wasn't the whole truth. "Uh huh." One of his eyebrows quirked up. "What else?"

Danny gave him a half-hearted glare, then sighed. "There was a guy. He snagged a couple games from Game Stop, but no one saw him."

"Except you," Josh stated, barely able to keep his eyes from going wide. "You're sure about what you saw?"

Danny just nodded.

"And no one else saw?"

Danny shook his head.

Josh's brow furrowed. "Did you get a good look? Can you give us a description?"

The teen shrugged. "I guess. He ran right by where I'd planned to bed down."

"Did he see you?" Josh demanded, now worried rather than curious.

Once again, Danny shook his head. "Dunno. But he rushed by and dropped this." Danny dug into his pocket, pulling out a beaten wallet. He offered it over to Delaney.

Delaney took it and flipped it open. "'Roger Clemmens,'" he read off the ID inside. He looked back at Danny, grinning. "Kid, you just made my life a _lot_ easier."

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Danny was out of lock-up the next day, in Delaney's custody, and he helped the officers catch not only Clemmens, but also several other crooks over the next two weeks. They'd found out early on that no one paid any attention to the teen as he made his rounds through the mall. Not once did someone think he was anything other than another mall-going teenager wanting to window shop.

He became their security camera. They hooked him up with a walkie talkie that would automatically connect him to the nearest of their team. Any time he saw something illegal going on, he called in and usually within five minutes, the perp was caught. It was a highly effective ploy.

Until the boy started to get twitchy.

It began with small moments, nearly overlooked by the officers. At first, it was just a small tremor in his hand or a shiver down his spine. He'd simply shrug it off and be back to his work.

But then came the shakes, the cloudy breath. Soon, the officers couldn't ignore that something truly _odd_ was going on.

And then, reinforcements came. In a black, 1967 Chevy Impala.

There were two of them, and they avoided the cops like the plague, but for some reason, they marched right up to Perry Hartnell.

"Alright, what's the deal?" the shorter, scruffier-looking one demanded gruffly.

Hartnell pointed out the teen. "He managed to get into one of the stores a couple weeks ago."

"Okay, _so?_" the taller one said, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He couldn't understand why they'd been called out there for something so… simple.

"It was locked down already, no signs of forced entry, and we saw him disappear around the corner before finding him inside." Perry was already showing them to the hallway where they'd lost the teen. "Here, he somehow went this way, then was inside the store." He patted the cement wall. "The only way to do that is—"

"To go through the wall." The tall one turned to the other. "Dean, he's got a point. This _does_ seem like our kinda job."

The shorter, Dean, wrinkled his nose. "He can't be a ghost, though, Sammy, he's solid and not flickering like they do. What else could go through walls?"

The taller scowled. "It's _Sam._ And it could've been teleportation."

"Okay," Dean said, "so that's, what, angels, demons, leprechauns, ghosts, or reapers?" He shrugged, checking the gun he'd holstered in his jeans' pocket. "Narrows the list some, but how do we figure out which he is?"

Hartnell sheepishly suggested, "You could ask?"

Dual scowls were shot at him. "Monsters _lie_, Hartnell," Dean snapped. "They ain't gonna come out and _say_ what they are."

"R—Right," the officer said, shrinking back, "s—sorry…. Um, he's s'posed to be back in the west wing right no—"

Screams met their ears. All three rushed off to see what had caused the commotion and were shocked to find themselves at a crime scene.

And not a simple case of shoplifting, either.

A rather large man in an orange jumpsuit was sprawled out between two stores. Blood was splattered all over the floor and walls, except for an area directly above the corpse. There, a message scrawled in blood proclaimed, "_I know you're here._"

"Well," Dean said, glaring down at the body, "looks like _someone's_ being hunted, and not by _us_."

"Dean, check this out." Sam was smoothing out a crumpled piece of paper.

Hartnell immediately recognized the writing. "It's from Danny," he breathed.

The letter simply read, "I'm sorry."

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A/N: Yeah, so we've got one more cross-over to add to the list. Not sure if they'll turn up again, but it's possible (and would make for interesting meetings with the other various do-gooders in this series). Let me know whether you'd like to see them again. Read and review, please! And don't forget to guess on the group the names are from!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hey, all. I'm not gonna even try to explain the lack of updates over the summer. Instead, new chapter for you! Also, probably should've said this at the very beginning of the story, but I've never been to any of the towns mentioned in this story. For all intents and purposes, I'm using their geographical positions but otherwise making them completely fictional. That is all.

Also, I don't know if it's the time away from this or just my mood, but this chapter came out more snarky than the rest. Oh, well.

Contest still going strong. I will say now, it's officially the first three winners that get OCs, so keep guessing where this collection of last names is from: Shelley, Leighton, Giroux, Briere, Hartnell, and Gagne.

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Michelle Gagne was highly known throughout Mt. Vernon, Illinois, as unlucky. It had even become a bit of a local legend that her terrible luck could be contagious, so most just left her alone or went out of their way to stay out of _her_ way. When she went out for groceries, the associates on the floor would make sure they weren't in the same aisle as her and the cashiers would check her out as quickly as possible and while touching as few of her things as possible. One had even pulled on gloves before taking her money.

But that's what she got for living in the most superstitious town in the US.

Though, admittedly, the town _might_ be onto something when they said she had poor luck. It had gotten to the point where she could barely walk down the street without tripping over air.

As such, it wasn't all that surprising to her when she ran straight into someone, causing him to lose his backpack and her to lose the book she was reading. All too used to this sort of circumstance, she quickly gathered everything up, stumbling over her words as she apologized at a hundred miles an hour.

"'Sfine," a gruff voice mumbled. Michelle glanced over at the man—boy, really—that she'd run into. He had shaggy, long, black hair that fell into his eyes, which were a shade of blue that seemed like they used to be bright before life dulled them. His clothes were ratty, as well, and suddenly Michelle was realizing that she was staring.

"Oh, um, okay." She handed the boy his backpack, which he tugged to himself quickly, as though worried someone would steal the worn-out bag. "Still, I really _am_ sorry. I wasn't looking, and—"

"Like I said, 'sfine." The boy stood, then reached down and pulled Michelle up as well. "Thanks for picking up my bag." He shouldered said backpack and turned to walk away.

But Michelle wasn't having it. "Um, w—wait!"

The boy stopped, but didn't turn.

"Um, y—you look like you could use a decent meal." Michelle thumbed over her shoulder in the direction of her home. "I live just down the block."

Sure, she was ignoring the fact that with her luck, he'd probably turn out to be some sort of serial killer, but maybe it was about time for her luck to change.

The boy turned, glancing first behind him in the direction he'd been heading, then towards Michelle's house. "…." He'd opened his mouth as if to speak, but then shut it with a slight clack. His bottom lip found its way between his teeth, and he nibbled on it as he thought, still glancing back and forth. Finally, his stomach grumbled loudly and he sighed. "Fine."

And just like that, Michelle found herself with a dinner guest.

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Danny couldn't believe his luck. All this time on the road, and people kept being so trusting as to let him into their homes. Though it also made him worried about how naive the country was getting, he still took advantage of it at times like this when he hadn't eaten in days and his ribs were starting to show once more. He'd heard of people with fast metabolisms, but frankly, this was ridiculous. It was starting to seem like skipping a single meal would put him on the fast track to starvation, a bad place to find oneself while on the run. What little money he "borrowed" from the people he passed by on the streets barely got him a burger at any of the hundreds of fast food places he'd seen, but his hero complex (somehow still alive and kicking even after all this time out of the business) wouldn't allow him to take more than a few spare bills at a time.

In any case, he now found himself sitting at a table in a small, two-story building, the top half the house and the bottom half a bookstore, across from a young, strawberry-blonde woman whom seemed a bit saddened to glance over at him.

Finally, he couldn't take it. "What?"

She grinned sadly. "Sorry, it's nothing, really."

His eyelids fell to half-mast, not believing that one bit. "Right."

There was a long pause, then the woman sighed. "Sorry. You just…. You're what, fifteen, yeah?"

And now Danny was wondering if _he_ was the naive one.

From the look the woman was giving him, his suspicion showed. She waved a hand. "It's nothing like that! Just… he'd be fifteen, now, too." Her eyes drifted downward and a hand wrapped around her stomach.

Danny studied her for a moment before speaking again. "...How old was he?"

She looked back up now, giving him that sad smile again. "He hadn't even been born yet. I was seven months along when they told me he'd be stillborn." Her gaze dropped once more to her stomach, still cradling it. "I still had to deliver him, though. They wouldn't even let me see him." She sighed. "And of course, the day I found out, my husband had been working late…."

Suddenly, she shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, it was fifteen years ago." She took a breath, then stood, smiling with a bit more joy than she had been. "So, should we set up your room for the night?"

Danny blinked. "...Wha?"

She grinned at him, this one pure amusement. "Your room. You've got enough bags under your eyes to go on a month-long trip. You need a good night's sleep, and you'll get it here or I'll follow you until you do."

There was no doubt in either of their minds that she'd follow through on that threat. Danny sighed. "Fine. Where'm I sleeping?"

She smiled brightly again. "Right down here in the... guest room." The slight pause wasn't too noticeable, but Danny had the distinct impression that that room's original purpose was _not_ a guest room. Still, he allowed himself to be led down the hall and into a small, light blue room. It was when he looked closer at the walls and saw the not-quite-covered crib trim (painted over with only a thin coat) that he realized the true function behind the room.

It had been for the baby.

The woman brushed passed him as he had this epiphany, swapping pillow cases and blankets and sheets with the explanation that they hadn't been changed in "forever." "After all," she said, "I don't often have company."

Danny frowned at that. She seemed nice enough. Why wouldn't her friends want to visit? "Why not?"

She gave a wry smile as she turned down the newly tucked blanket. "I'm bad luck."

The halfa's brow furrowed at that. "Why would they think that?"

"Because of what happened to my husband." She had turned completely away now, smoothing out the already military-perfect blankets.

Danny took a moment, debating the pros and cons of asking before just deciding screw it. "What happened?"

She turned to face him, a hand on her hip. "Now, I don't even know your name, and I've already told you about Ethan. I think that's enough swapping stories for one day." She started to head out the door, then turned back with a slight smirk. "But tell you what, you help me out in the store tomorrow, and I'll tell you about what happened."

Well, now she'd done it. Not only had the word "help" immediately ensnared his hero complex, but she'd also enticed his overwhelming curiosity. There was no way he'd be able to say no now, but there was still one thing he needed to do.

"...Danny."

She turned, blinking at him. "Hm?"

"My name."

There was a brief pause, then she smiled at him. "I'm Michelle Gagne."

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Danny did stay and help in the bookstore the next day. It was honestly relaxing, moving through the shelves and flipping through the books in between helping customers. Michelle encouraged this, mostly because people would approach Danny before they'd approach her. With the boy available for any suggestions or questions, Michelle found that they were selling almost twice the norm for her small shop.

The day passed quickly, and before he knew it, Danny was helping Michelle close up the store. They chatted about nothing in particular as they locked up and went up the stairs to make dinner.

They ate in relative silence that night, both content to just enjoy the company without needing to speak much more than asking for something to be passed. After the meal, both went to their respective rooms, Michelle falling straight to sleep and Danny taking a few of his pills so he could do the same.

This pattern continued for the next week. Every day, the two would wake up, have breakfast, then head down to man the store. Danny seemed to become popular with the customers, mostly for his book suggestions that seemed to match exactly what each person wanted to read at that time and partially because they wouldn't have to approach the "bad luck girl" as Danny'd heard them call Michelle.

Any time he heard the nickname, he'd find himself frowning. It simply wasn't right that such a nice woman was treated so poorly by her own neighbors and customers. However, he couldn't exactly do much about it, so he'd just give the name-callers dirty looks until they learned to not say those things around him.

It wasn't until a week later that Danny remembered _why_ he'd agreed to help. Michelle and he both had completely forgotten the agreement, help for a story. Danny resolved then and there to ask her over dinner that night, then he went back to selecting books for their patrons.

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"Hey, Michelle?"

The woman glanced over at the teen, whose brow had furrowed due to nerves. She chuckled, always amused to see him thrown off-balance. "Yes, Danny?"

"...What happened with your husband? Why isn't he around?"

She sighed, realizing she should've expected this question. After all, it was just her luck he'd remember, even if she got a nice, week-long reprieve. "I should start at the beginning."

The two sat at the table, dinner laying before them, going mostly uneaten (Danny, though now getting three square meals a day, was still constantly ravenous) as Michelle spoke.

"I got pregnant towards the end of high school. I was seventeen at the time, and worried out of my mind. I was so sure my parents would throw me out of the house, and I had no idea how to tell the father…. But they all took it in stride. I guess it helped that the father was my boyfriend of nearly three years. He told me he was planning on proposing right after graduation, so we just moved the wedding up. At that point, it was going well.

"I was lucky enough that I didn't need to drop out. My due date was for the December after we graduated, so I decided to put off college for a while to take care of our baby. Unfortunately, that meant that my husband, James, took two jobs to pay for all the supplies and clothes and diapers we'd need. We bought everything way ahead of time, repainting the room and setting up the bookstore together…. We were so excited…."

She sighed, eyes closing as she spoke, the words getting heavier and harder for her to push out. "He was at work when I started to feel strange. There was this pain, then I was bleeding, and all I could think about was getting to the hospital as fast as I could. It was only after I'd gotten there that I thought to call James and tell him what was going on." She chuckled bitterly. "If I'd only called him sooner…." She sighed. "Anyway, he said he'd be there as soon as possible. Told me he was leaving then, said he loved me, and hung up. It was an hour later that the doctor told me my son was d—dead," she stumbled on the word, choking it out, "and I got the call right after that."

There was a slight pause, the room dead silent before Danny breathed out, "What call?"

"It was a policeman. He said that there'd… there'd been an accident. Some college student coming home from a party, drunk, had slammed straight into James' car, and—and he was killed upon impact." Another bitter chuckle. "The drunk driver walked away without a scratch." She sighed, glancing over at Danny so that their eyes locked, blue on gray. "Within an hour, I'd lost the two most important people in my life, and I hadn't even gotten to meet one of them."

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Hearing the story had only cemented Danny's decision. He wanted to help Michelle as much as he could, and the first thing to do was get the town to stop believing she was bad luck. All day in the store, he would make comments about how good things were with him, living with Michelle. How to him, she'd been good luck.

It took another week before they began to accept that. The name-calling slowed to a stop, and some patrons even became brave enough to walk over to Michelle. Word spread through town that the "unlucky" thing was just an old superstition, a bad situation blown out of proportion by those who'd only heard rumors.

If Michelle noticed a difference, she didn't say anything, though she did seem to smile a bit more. The woman was always polite, more out of habit and professionalism than respect, but that was slowly changing, as well. Soon, the bookstore was full of life and sound, and the customers had forgotten that Michelle was ever taboo to begin with.

So of course, it all fell apart.

It was two weeks, almost to the day, after he'd arrived at Michelle's. He'd gone out that day, as it was Michelle's grocery day, the one day a week the store was closed. Danny had taken advantage of the closure to run out and pick up more of his sleeping medication.

As he was walking back to the house, he passed a small home improvement store that had cans of Behr paint in the window. Danny paused for a moment, staring in at it before grinning slightly and heading in, thinking over the bit of money Michelle'd given him for working at the store.

By his calculations, it should be just enough.

He picked up a large can of light blue, and smaller cans of white and pale green, along with a few different sized brushes.

He had a room to paint.

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When he first walked in the door, he was happy that Michelle wasn't home yet. He wanted his purchase to be a surprise for her later.

But then he smelled it and became glad she wasn't home for a completely different reason. The paint cans were left right inside the door as he rushed up the stairs and into the guest room he'd been given.

Sure enough, there was a body sprawled out on the floor, the light blue walls painted a gooey red with blood. The customary message was scrawled across the wall, emblazoned now to read, _"Fly away again, little Phantom."_

Danny growled at the message, taking personal offense. He wouldn't have _had_ to fly away in the first place if it weren't for Vlad…!

But then he shook his head. There was no time for that, he needed to get rid of this disaster, or all his work to prove Michelle was _good_ luck would be for naught. So, with a determined glint in his eye, Danny went to work on the room.

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Michelle came home late, having fallen asleep while at the library, checking out which books she should order for the store. When she'd first woken up again, she'd been worried that Danny might be upset with her for the delay, but then remembered that Danny was a tough teen and had obviously been on the road for a _long_ time before she ran into him. He could take care of himself for one day.

It was at a leisurely pace that she went home, walking with her nose tucked inside a book she'd checked out.

Or, it _was_, until she arrived at her home to find the door locked, the lights off, and the building empty. For a moment she stared, unable to think of why this was unusual since it was what she'd been used to since the deaths, but then she remembered Danny.

And she took off like a shot, rushing through the house to try to find the teen. She checked through the whole store, the kitchen, the bathrooms, and finally she came to the door of the "guest" room.

Taking in a deep breath, she readied herself, then threw open the door to see—

Nothing. There was nothing and no one in the room. It looked just as it had before Danny had moved in, all light blue walls and bed covered in dirty blankets and sheets and pillow cases. But then she took a closer look, and she saw the trim.

The trim that had been painted over years ago was back on the walls, sharper than ever and filling her with that joy she'd had before her two boys were taken from her. Over the bed was writing, in pale green, that read, _"In loving memory of Ethan and James—may they be at peace wherever they may be."_

She smiled at the script, tears springing to her eyes. It was beautiful and everything she'd wanted the room to be but couldn't bring herself to do on her own.

It wouldn't be for another month before she accidentally chipped the wall and discovered the two messages that had been painted over, the one in blood and the one in white paint, reading, _"I'm sorry."_

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A/N: Okay, started out snarky, but eventually got to the angsty. Read and review please, and hopefully it won't take another two and a half/three months before I update again.


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